


Equilibrium

by JediMordsith



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: D/s elements, Flogging, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Power Dynamics, Triumverate 'verse, Unconventional Conflict Resolution, enemies to not exactly friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith
Summary: Thrawn wants all his bedmates to play nicely together and tasks Mara with making it happen. She resorts to unconventional methods to make peace with Pryce.
Relationships: Arihnda Pryce/Luke Skywalker, Arihnda Pryce/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Luke Skywalker/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Mara Jade/Arihnda Pryce, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker/Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Arihnda Pryce, Mara Jade/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 33
Kudos: 36
Collections: Triumvirate 'Verse





	1. Mara

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilmouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmouse/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Proprietary Indulgences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757896) by [celinamarniss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinamarniss/pseuds/celinamarniss). 
  * Inspired by [Impetuous](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21267005) by [evilmouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmouse/pseuds/evilmouse). 



> This fic is a gift for Evilmouse, who also served as beta because that's just how things roll sometimes. 
> 
> Massive thanks are also due Celinamarniss, who not only served as beta but created this wonderful AU in the first place and generously gave us all permission to play in it. 
> 
> In other news, I fully expect this to be the only fic I ever write in which Thrawn is not a bastard best shot on sight. That said, this AU was too delicious not to dabble in, so please enjoy some smut. 
> 
> Finally, I envision this fic as set approximately two weeks after Evilmouse's fic Impetuous and sometime after Celina's fic Trigger Point.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thawn gives his Companion a task.

As a general rule, Mara did not go to Thrawn’s rooms unbidden. Unlike Luke, she respected the formal terms of their contract. Showing up unannounced and without being sent for simply wasn’t polite. Only for concerns of the utmost importance did she make an exception.

Standing outside the Grand Admiral’s quarters, she touched the annunciator. _Nothing_ was more important than the fact that she might be failing her Keeper.

She was careful to keep her posture calm and regal, aware of the ever-present cameras. Thrawn’s surprise and faint wariness rippled over her in the Force when the door opened. The black of his rank-less off-duty uniform set off the striking blue of his skin and his red eyes narrowed slightly, taking her in.

“Mara.”

“Forgive me for intruding, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” She inclined her head submissively. “May I have a moment?”

“Come in.”

He stepped aside and she entered, the scent of fijisi wood wrapping around her like reassurance. The instant the door shut, closing them off from the corridor’s holo-cams Mara sank fluidly to her knees in a movement she’d been made to practice until it was instinctive. Her hands settled palm up on her thighs and she dipped her head toward her chest in obeisance.

For a moment, Thrawn said nothing. The queasiness in Mara’s gut redoubled. He didn’t always know what to do with her Court manners — with _her_ — but she knew of no other way to approach this sort of conversation. Luke would simply have walked in and started talking, but everything in her rebelled at the idea.

Then Thrawn rested his hand atop her head and her nerves settled. He stroked her hair, his strong fingers sliding through the loose strands. It was an intimate, possessive gesture, and Mara let the feel of it slide through her, orienting herself to his authority.

“Something bothers you, _ch’eo bat bun’is._ ”

“Yes, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. I want to please you.”

He walked around her slowly, his fingers never leaving her hair. “You think you do not?” 

Mara stifled a wince, the words she needed sticking in her throat. Her Keeper required things of her that were schooled and drummed and beaten out of her a lifetime ago. Words. Sincere ones, about fear and limits and other feelings she has never been allowed. Finding them was like sifting through the wreckage of one of Coruscant’s lowest levels, unearthing filthy, broken bits of what once was and praying there will be enough scraps to get the job done.

_Compliance,_ she told herself. She was his Companion and this was what he desired. The cost to her is of no consequence.

“You want Pryce. In your bed.”

The hand in her hair fisted and Mara’s breath caught as he wrenched her head back.His eyes burned into hers a long, silent moment, searching.

Then, his voice low, he asked, “You object?”

“No!” Her chest hurt — she’d done it wrong, explained herself badly. “No, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. I…” The words lodged inside her, bitter and choking.

Thrawn’s hand released her hair and moved to stroke her cheek.“Tell me.”

Mara fought the desire to let her eyes slide shut at his unwarranted tenderness and the way it unraveled her. She kept her eyes on his, like a proper Companion, and forced the words out.“I am the reason she is uncomfortable. Before I was yours…” She hadn’t known Pryce would matter. Had never learned how to interact with other people as anything but threats and competition.

Thrawn frowned, then looked away, staring into the distance as he considered. “Pour me some wine.”

The request was unexpected, but Mara immediately rose to obey. She selected a Glovian purple, it’s light violet hue and floral scent light and relaxing. Turning back, she found Thrawn seated on the left end of the curved couch that dominated his seating area. Carrying the wine over, she set it on the low table in front of him.

“Lay down.” Thrawn held a datapad in his left hand but motioned her to the couch on his right.

Reading his intention, Mara laid down, her body sinking into the thick cushions, and rested her head on his thigh. He stroked her idly while he attended to whatever business was on the pad, his hand playing over her hair, her shoulder, her bare arm, her back, and side. Calm seeped in. She breathed in the aromas of the wood and the wine and the distinct scent of her Keeper and they seemed to expand in her chest, slowly pushing out the fears that had strangled her over the last week.

Occasionally, Thrawn’s hand left her long enough to lift his glass and sip his wine, but always it came back, until her body felt languid and tipsy on it. At length, he set the datapad down. “I am not unaware of your friction with Arihnda, _ch’eo bat bun’is_.”

Mara’s heart rate kicked up again, but she said nothing, waiting.

“Arihnda serves me differently than you do, but you are correct. I do desire her and I believe she will play a vital role in our long-term success.”

“Yes, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Her voice came out in a whisper. 

“I desire to have this ship run smoothly, Mara, and I cannot afford friction between those I hold closest to me.

“Yes, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

His fingers played over the bruise on her throat. Luke had been right. Their Keeper very much enjoyed seeing her display the marks he left on her fair skin.

“You have proven yourself to be very insightful, _ch’eo bat bun’is_. It would please me if you were to apply your skills to resolving this matter.” 

Something cool slides through her, soothing like bacta gel over burned flesh. She could do that. Her Keeper valued compliance above all else. Her obedience in this would be worth more than any pleasure Pryce could offer him.

“It will be done.” Mara turned her head and pressed a kiss to his fabric-covered thigh. “Thank you, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

Thrawn’s hand dug into her hair again and pleasure washed through her as he pulled her up against his broad chest. He claimed her mouth in a kiss that was both leisurely and searing — the possessive touch of a man who knew what belonged to him and what he would do with it.

When he let go, Mara knew she was dismissed. She slid from the couch silent as a ghost and took her leave.   
  


* * *

It took her two days to make her plan. She reevaluated every interaction she had ever had with Pryce, and the woman’s interactions with Thrawn, Luke, and the crew. She calculated and plotted, considering Arihnda’s strengths and weaknesses, fears, desires, and habits.

Then she placed a special order to be included in the next day’s supply pickup and began drawing up a contract.


	2. Arihnda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arihnda receives a startling proposition.

Arihnda prided herself on not being easily rattled, but there were very real limits to what a being could take. She’d been walking the line for a solid two weeks already, and every time she encountered the Grand Admiral’s kriff toys, they threatened to shove her right over the edge.

Waiting for Thrawn to acknowledge the way he’d very explicitly claimed her and give her _some clue_ about how he wished to proceed on that front was agony enough. She’d gotten herself off every day since with the memories of that single encounter — leaning against her shower wall in the morning, remembering the feel of his hands gripping her head as he ruthlessly kriffed her mouth, in her bed in the dark when sleep wouldn’t come, reliving the utter domination and unrelenting eroticism of her Grand Admiral kriffing her ass until he flooded it with his spend. Touching herself took the edge off enough to work, but it was a wretched substitute for what she really wanted.

The last thing she needed was to keep running into Skywalker and being ambushed by vivid memories of his ludicrously attractive collarbones, the lean, sculpted muscles or his torso, his thick cock fucking her senseless. Yet the man was seemingly _everywhere._ He showed up at meetings, stopped by to ask her random questions about the TIE program Thrawn had given him permission to get involved with, and — gods help her — she’d run into him all but carrying Jade out of the Grand Admiral’s private dojo two days ago. 

Jade had been white as sun-bleached bone, her eyes haunted. The Grand Admiral, who had been discussing the upcoming holo-meeting with his Personal Attachée, had stopped when he saw them, turning aside from the conversation to caress Jade’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Jade’s eyes had fluttered shut and she’d leaned into the touch in a way that made Arihnda’s gut twist with jealousy and loathing and… other feelings, which she didn’t care to look at too closely. So what if the Companion unexpectedly proved herself capable of human-like feeling and something that looked suspiciously like vulnerability? It didn’t make her any less a bitch.

An incredibly _distracting_ bitch, who had suddenly changed her habits on a dime. First, there was the gym. For no apparent reason, the Companion had ceased with her previously incessant jibes and thinly veiled insults. For the last several days, she’d greeted Arihnda with suspicious politeness _using her correct title._ Then she’d gone back to her workout without so much as another word or glance. When she left, Jade used Arihnda’s title _again_ in an equally baffling farewell.

Then there was the perfume. Arihnda had swiveled toward the scent so fast she’d nearly snapped her own neck the first time Jade floated into an Intel meeting wearing the new stuff. She hadn’t lowered herself to actually asking, but she’d have bet a month’s pay it was Lothalian blood lily. She hadn’t smelled anything like it since leaving Lothal and, at the time, she’d frankly been quite certain that it was nothing more than a high-end marketing gimmick. After all, she’d never known anyone but a professional scent model to actually pull off wearing the complex and evocative scent. But now Jade was wandering around the halls in it, forcibly turning Arihnda’s head every time they were in the same room.

As if all of that weren’t gods-awful enough, there were the _bruises_. For absolutely no reason Arihnda could imagine, Jade had suddenly begun sporting bruises in the most disconcerting places. Rings of fingertip bruises encircled her arms under the short sleeves of professionally-cut tunics. Violet-blue love bites peeked out along the neckline of her dress. As much as Arihnda told herself it was no concern of hers if the woman wanted to embarrass herself, it was impossible not to hear the other officers speculating about whether it was the Grand Admiral or Skywalker leaving the marks and what Jade had done to “earn” them.The gossip inevitably sent her mind reeling into florid imaginings she _did not want_ but couldn’t seem to keep herself from indulging in.

Arihnda both loathed Jade and wanted to be her. It was maddening, and actively getting worse.

Now the schutta had the nerve to appear on her _personal schedule._

The appointment hadn’t been there when she’d gone into the Grand Admiral’s morning holo-comm to Lothal. But there it was now, in the formerly free block at 1500 she’d been planning to use to proof the report she had due tomorrow. Irritation simmered. Of course the bicce had to screw up her plans. She’d done nothing else since the moment she’d arrived.

Arihnda huffed and stabbed at the screen, switching out of the scheduling tab. She wasn’t going to waste another second thinking about _either o_ f the Grand Admiral’s kriff slaves. Unlike them, _she_ had work to do. Besides, she’d find out what Jade wanted soon enough.

* * *

The annunciator chimed at 14:59. Arihnda double-checked that everything in her office was neat and all classified materials were secured. (Just because the Grand Admiral had given Jade a security clearance and allowed her to start working with the Intel team didn’t mean she herself had to contribute to the woman’s delusions of privilege beyond where specifically ordered.) Satisfied, she keyed the entry controls.

To say Jade walked in would be inaccurate. She _glided_ with an absurd grace, her fitted, high-necked day dress slinking down her curves and fluttering around her legs in ways such a theoretically modest dress had no business doing. She moved to stand in front of Arihnda’s desk but made no move to sit.

“Personal Attachée Pryce,” she greeted, formally.

“Companion Jade.” Keeping the distaste out of her voice was harder than keeping it off her face, but she managed. Arihnda laced her fingers together to prevent them from drumming impatiently on the desktop. “What do you want?”

“I have a proposition to discuss with you,” Jade replied, unperturbed. “Related to a task Thrawn has set for me.” She cocked her head slightly. “As some discretion is involved, I thought we might discuss it somewhere more private. My quarters, perhaps. At your convenience, of course.”

Arihnda’s eyes narrowed. If Jade thought she was going to bend over backward to make her plushy life any easier, she was in for a rude awakening. She was half-inclined to refuse, simply as payback for all the very intentional slights she’d endured at the Companion’s hands. Or maybe she’d take a screen from Jade’s own playback and sweetly agree, then fill up her schedule with other things as an excuse to make her wait an interminably long time for a “convenient” meeting time to arise. It would be a petty revenge for all the disrespect she’d suffered but eminently justified. For a long moment, Arihnda savored the imagined satisfaction of watching the Companion squirm as the tables were turned.

Unfortunately, her better judgment stepped in to nix the impulse. Appealing as it was, it had too much potential to backfire. If the Grand Admiral had set Jade a task, failure to cooperate could end badly. She couldn’t afford to ignore the request until she had at least somewhat solid grounds on which to base her refusal. 

“Very well.” She said crisply, glancing at her schedule. “Tomorrow. 1900 hours.”

“Thank you.” Jade inclined her head regally and then swept out.

Arihnda stared after her, irritation still hot under her skin, uncomfortably aware that a distinct tang of anticipation was already creeping in to replace it. Depending on what the Companion needed and how badly she desired it, she just might get to watch the haughty bitch grovel… and wouldn’t _that_ take the edge off the endless wait for Thrawn to call her back to his bed. 

* * *

She arrived at Jade’s door precisely on time and paused, plucking her sleeves down over thin wrists fussily, aware of the security holo-cam at her back. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her standard grey uniform. The appointment was in her schedule — let the record show she’d gone in an official capacity, as a service to her Grand Admiral.

The holo-cams could only capture her appearance after all, and she was quite adept at keeping her expression professionally blank when necessary. No one need ever know about the galling curiosity that had been steadily encroaching since lunch. The delicious anticipation of what might transpire when she found reasonable cause to make the Companion beg for help only she could provide.

_Stop it,_ she scolded herself, running a hand over the front of her uniform to smooth invisible wrinkles. _Pay attention._ Anticipation or not, she was stepping into enemy territory. She had to remain on guard and indisputably in control of the situation, regardless of Jade’s wiles.

Lifting her chin, she reached out and depressed the annunciator firmly.

The door slid open immediately and Arihnda’s concentration promptly fractured. Jade wore a wrapped top the color of a midnight sky that left her toned midriff bare and dipped low enough to display a neat set of fresh teeth marks on the creamy flesh of one breast. Her striking hair was twisted up loosely, and her harem-style pants were slit nearly all the way up the sides, revealing tantalizing glimpses of skin as she stepped away from the door, motioning for her guest to enter. And the _smell_. Jade’s Lothalian perfume mixed with something spicy and tannic that wafted out of the apartment. It made the recirculated, faintly antiseptic air of her own quarters feel barren, suddenly.

“Personal Attachée Pryce. Please come in.”

Distractedly, Arihnda recognized that Jade’s rooms were a structural match of Skywalker’s. The entrance led to a small parlor of sorts, with a conversation circle set up in the corner. One closed door led off to what Arihnda knew would be the bedroom, another to Skywalker’s quarters. The space was fiercely neat and entirely devoid of any personal touches.

She followed automatically as Jade led her to the seating circle, its low cushions upholstered in fabric of a warm sandy color that stood out against the flat Imperial grey of the walls. A basic tea set waited on the low table. Arihnda immediately identified it as standard issue, probably borrowed from the officer’s mess. Judging by the aroma, the tea was not.

The Companion drifted into one of the chairs and leaned forward. She lifted the pot much more delicately than such a mundane item warranted and began to pour. She made a divertingly appealing holo and fresh annoyance shot through Arihnda.

Impatient and suddenly restless, she dropped into the chair opposite the Companion. “I didn’t come for a tea party, Companion Jade,” she scowled. “I have a great deal of work to do.”

“The tea is a sign of respect,” Jade reproved mildly, reaching with a feline grace to set a steaming cup in front of her. “But, as I said before, I asked you here to address the Grand Admiral’s wishes.”

Skeptical, Arihnda sniffed. “Let me guess,” she bit out, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “You’ve decided to finally ask me all the things you should have the minute you were gifted. All the things about the Grand Admiral that only _I_ know about how to serve him properly.”

“No.”

_Of course not._ It had been too much to hope the Companion had seen the error of her ways. Rolling her eyes, Arihnda lifted her tea to her lips. Just because the giver was a bitch didn’t mean she couldn’t attempt to enjoy the delicious-smelling drink.

“You’re here because Thrawn wishes to continue kriffing you.”

Arihnda nearly choked on her tea. She barely managed to swallow, her eyes watering at the pain as the hot liquid went both down the wrong tube and up her nose at once. She struggled to stifle a mortifying fit of coughing as she thrust her cup back onto the table, her cheeks flushing. “Excuse me?” 

“He desires you,” Jade said, simply, sipping her own tea as if _kriffing_ were a perfectly reasonable conversation topic with near strangers.“You are an asset to his cause and he considers you personally his, as he does Luke and me, though on different terms.”

Pride swelled in her chest as she regained some control over her breathing. “I’ve been his far longer than you two.”

“I am aware.” A muscle in Jade’s jaw twitched — a tiny, fleeting sign of irritation, gone almost before Arihnda registered it. “But the fact remains that we _all_ now belong to him, and dissension between us is unacceptable. It is contrary to his purposes and displeases him, personally.”

Arihnda’s skin prickled and pinched as if her body was abruptly too tight for all the pent up fury boiling over inside her. The _arrogance_! “That _dissension_ isn’t my fault,” she snapped, unable to restrain herself. “You’ve been a condescending bitch since the first time I saw you in Court. The fact that the Grand Admiral finds you a pleasant kriff toy doesn’t mean _I_ have to like you.”

“With respect, Personal Attachée, I don’t particularly care if you ever like me or not.” Jade set her cup down. “But I _do_ care about pleasing my Keeper, and I have no intention of failing in my duties over something as petty as your distaste for me.” Reaching past the tea set, she picked up a datapad Arihnda hadn’t seen. “I propose a formal resolution, after which we agree to work together appropriately to satisfy the Grand Admiral’s desires.” She held out the pad.

That… wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Taken aback, Arihnda mechanically accepted the pad, her mind spinning as she tried to catch up. Jade folded her hands delicately in her lap and waited.

Arihnda skimmed the document, more than proficient in reading things quickly. The first paragraphs were dismissible — a neatly worded reiteration of what the Companion had just said. They shared loyalty to Thrawn, his pleasure and purposes were of the utmost importance, and resolving any contention between them was essential for future efficiency. For all that it was true and she didn’t disagree, there was something… unnerving in the matter-of-fact way the Companion had listed it all out.

But where the lead-in had been uncomfortable, the bulleted list that followed made her nearly drop the pad. She fumbled it, then gripped it tightly with both hands, rereading the words two more times before she was certain she hadn’t misunderstood. It was… she didn’t even know.

It was everything she wanted and absolutely absurd all at once. She had no idea what to do with it.

Finally, she dragged her gaze up to Jade, who was still waiting patiently. Licking her lips, Arihnda said, incredulously, “You’re volunteering to let me… strike you.”

“No,” Jade clarified, calmly. “I am volunteering to let you _flog_ me.” She tilted her head to one side, furrowing her brow slightly. “Though we might negotiate an alternative implement if a flogger makes you uncomfortable.”

_A flogger._ Jade said it as if it were perfectly normal and not the stuff of filthy skinholos.

Arihnda wasn’t sure she could breathe. Gods help her — was this the sort of thing Thrawn _did_ with his kriff toys behind closed doors? The idea was both horrifying and shockingly titillating. 

When she didn’t speak, Jade frowned. “You need to work out your frustrations so we can begin on more productive ground,” she explained as if she thought Arihnda didn’t understand her proposal.“Flogging would be a safe and functional method for doing so.”

Safe and functional were, frankly, not words Arihnda had ever imagined she’d hear anyone use when discussing _beating_ another sentient. Then again, she’d never have expected such a thing to be the topic of any conversation she participated in in the first place.

But wasn’t this almost _exactly_ what she’d been thinking two weeks ago when she inadvertently buzzed Skywalker’s door? _Your fuck toy is a bitch, Grand Admiral, and she needs discipline._

“If we handle it appropriately,” Jade continued, confidently, “we should be able to generate enough arousal to prompt a consummation on the spot, sealing the resolution and laying suitable groundwork for whatever future encounters the Grand Admiral desires.”

_Consummation._ Arihnda _definitely_ couldn’t breathe. The temperature in the room seemed to have climbed a dozen degrees. Her head spun with vivid and _exceptionally_ unconstructive images of herself and Jade in Thrawn’s bed. She’d never participated in a threesome — she didn’t even know how it would _work_. She could infer, of course — she wasn’t a complete innocent. And Thrawn had mentioned something to that effect, hadn’t he? She’d refused to think about it, but now… murky as she was on the theoretical logistics, the prospect was undeniably tantalizing.

A thought nagged, and she blurted it out.“And you’ll treat me with respect, after?”

Because it wasn’t just about sharing Thrawn’s bed. It was about sharing the ship — the one she had all but commanded in many ways behind the scenes for her Grand Admiral’s pleasure — with these two intruders. They were slowly worming their way into every aspect of her life and her work, and she wouldn’t be mistreated on her own turf. She’d worked far too hard and sacrificed too much to tolerate that. No matter how pretty they were. 

“I have treated you with respect since it came to my attention that it was a subject of importance to my Keeper.”

There wasn’t quite exasperation in Jade’s expression, but something. Impatience, maybe. Arihnda couldn’t help but marvel; did the woman truly have no concept of shame?

“I will continue to do so whether you choose to cooperate or not,” the Companion continued, evenly. “ _I_ have no trouble complying with Thrawn’s wishes on this matter. You need something more.” Jade gestured to the contract. “This is a means to provide it.”

The haughtiness grated. “I have never had any trouble complying with the Grand Admiral’s wishes,” Arihnda snapped. It was a blatant lie — while she had certainly made herself comply, she’d been tied up in knots over his kriff toys since the day she realized he was actually making use of them.

Jade didn’t precisely call her on it, but she raised a dubious eyebrow. “So you require nothing more than my spoken word to adopt these terms?”

“I don’t trust anything that comes out of your mouth.” The words escaped before she thought them through.

“I’m not asking you to.” Jade shot back. For just an instant, her composed mask cracked, frustration and something else Arihnda couldn’t name leaking through. “I’ve already adjusted my behavior in keeping with Thrawn’s stated preferences, and I am offering you the opportunity to let me prove my dedication to the new arrangement physically.”

Arihnda felt the world jar on its axis. For a split second, she caught a glimpse of someone very much like herself in the woman across from her. Under perfectly coiffed hair and the Court manners, Mara Jade desperately desired to excel at the work she been assigned and to please the man to whom she belonged. The realization was alarmingly and distressingly awkward.

Jade paused, pursing her lips and readopting her calm mask.“You can refuse this overture to spite me if you wish,” she said, her tone neutral and matter-of-fact again. “But I don’t believe that will go well for you unless you have an alternative plan. Thrawn wants us both, and we need to find a way to make it work sooner rather than later.”

Arihnda sat silently, time stretching as she grappled with unfamiliar feelings she had no desire to look too closely at, let alone name. _Focus on what matters,_ she admonished herself. Pleasing the Grand Admiral had to come first, always. 

Finally, she carefully set the datapad on the table and wiped her palms on her thighs, suddenly aware that they’d begun to sweat. Squaring her shoulders, she cleared her throat. “I agree,” she said, primly, “that the Grand Admiral’s concerns and preferences must be given highest priority. I accept your terms.”

“Excellent.”

There was a wash of relief, and Arihnda wasn’t sure if it was hers or Jade’s. The Companion was immediately in motion, rising and moving out of the seating circle with decisive steps.

“We’ll need to make a formal signing,” she said over her shoulder, briskly. “I suggest we use Skywalker’s room. It’s inappropriate to invite ourselves to Thrawn’s and you’ve already been kriffed in there once, so you should be comfortable.” She paused behind the sofa and turned around. “Have you flogged someone before?”

Arihnda gaped at the bluntness of the question and felt her cheeks flame.

Jade waved a hand impatiently.“I’m not critiquing your experience,” she said, and this time there _was_ exasperation in her voice. “But it’s not something you can effectively ‘wing’ the first try and presentation will count. So, have you or haven't you?”

“It’s not exactly a common practice,” Arihnda hedged defensively, feeling the flush in her cheeks creep down along her chest and the back of her neck.

Jade didn’t answer, disappearing through the door to her bedroom. She reemerged a moment later, and Arihnda felt her jaw drop as the Companion brandished a polished ivory-wood handle with a mass of thin leather strips affixed to the end.

“Come on, then,” Jade said, striding toward the door that separated her quarters from Skywalker’s. “Luke can show you how.”


	3. Mara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke facilitates a lesson.

Mara headed for the door connecting her room to Luke’s without waiting to see if Pryce would follow. She could feel the mess of emotions the woman was projecting behind her, but ignored them. She reached out in the Force instead, tugging at Luke’s mind to give him a few seconds warning.

He emerged from his bedroom as the door whisked open, turning toward her with a smile. He couldn’t have been back in his rooms for long —he was still wearing the rank-less black uniform he’d taken to donning on days when he worked with the TIE program. It was snug in all the right places and Mara shamelessly appreciated the view.

Judging by the amusement that threaded through the warmth and welcome wrapping around her, he’d caught the flavor of her thoughts. It was fine; she hadn’t been hiding them.

Before he could comment, however, he caught sight of Pryce behind her and raised an eyebrow. “Mara. Attachée Pryce. What are you up to?”

“Attachée Pryce and I have negotiated a new arrangement that will allow us to serve Thrawn better,” Mara informed him, matter-of-factly, holding the flogger at her side and just behind her, out of sight. “We’re going to have a formal signing ceremony and need to use your room.”

Surprise rippled off of him but he said easily, “sure.”

“I need you to give her a basic primer on flogging.” Mara lifted the flogger, revealing it with a little flourish. “She’s never done it before and it has to look good.”

Surprise turned to shock and his eyes darted past her to Pryce. “You’re going to flog her?” He asked, incredulously.

“It’s part of the contract.” Pryce jutted her chin out defiantly. “Recompense for previous disrespect.”

Mara spared a second to gauge the other woman’s feelings with the Force. The weight of old grievances was still there, but it was balanced by a burgeoning respect. Defensive as she appeared, she was not uninterested in how things were developing. _Good._

Luke’s eyes returned to her, and Mara felt lust curl out of him like smoke rings as he digested the situation. To his credit, he kept his game face on and said calmly, “I see.” Then his lips quirked and he held out his hand, wiggling his fingers.“When did you get this?” He glanced at Pryce. “Or is it yours?”

Pryce made a strangled, indignant sound and Mara bit back a snort. “I bought it this week,” she said, careful to keep her amusement out of her voice as she laid the handle in his palm.

It was medium weight — she’d have liked heavier if Thrawn or Luke was to wield it, but Pryce didn’t have the same muscle mass. This would be less taxing for her. The falls were a fawn-colored bantha hide, the handle burnished ivory. Luke turned it over, examining it, his pleasure obvious.

Mara’s swept her gaze over the room, assessing. As her eyes skimmed past Pryce, she realized the other woman staring at the flogger, riveted. Faint wisps of horror and fascination formed a haze around her and Mara resisted the urge to sigh. Evidently, she was going to have to expand the woman’s sexual education if she was going to be joining them in the bedroom. But that was a problem for later.

Pointing to the table pushed along the back of the sofa, she directed herself to Luke.“That table, you think? Over here?” She gestured. 

Luke eyed the table, thoughtfully. “You want to be bent over?” He asked. “Because the wall is an option.”

Mara shook her head. “She doesn’t have experience,” she reminded him, pursing her lips. “The potential for damage is higher if she focuses on anything above than my hips.”

“Right.” He discarded the idea immediately but eyed her with a speculative interest that made her toes curl with desire.

Mara made a show of huffing, but couldn’t help teasing. “It’s not like it’s going anywhere,” she pointed out, folding her arms under her breasts with feigned impatience. “You can show Thrawn how to use it more extensively another time.”

“Tease,” he accused. His eyes sparkled as he moved to grab the few items off the table and relocate it to where she’d pointed.

When it was in place, Mara stepped up to it, adjusting the angle minutely, then frowned. The top of the table hit at her waist — too high. “I need different shoes.”

Already mentally sorting through her closet, she crossed the room back toward her own. _The Ankais,_ she thought, ignoring Pryce’s puzzled expression as she passed. In her bedroom, she made short work of slipping off her flats and sliding her feet into the tall silver heels.

Crossing back into Luke’s quarters confidently, Mara couldn’t help but notice that Pryce’s eyes were saucer-round. Force help her — the woman looked like she might have an aneurysm before they’d even started. Mara refused herself the indulgence of wishing she would. Thrawn would not be pleased, even if it would simplify all their lives tremendously.

Reaching the table, she re-gauged her height, pleased with the results this time. She moved to reach for the hidden fastener on her pants and jumped slightly when the flogger landed on the table beside her. Luke’s body pressed warm against her back, his arousal unmistakable. His hands closed over hers on her waistband and heat rushed to Mara’s core when Luke stepped in, pinning her hips to the table.

“How hard do you want it?” he murmured, nuzzling her throat.

“This is a _lesson_ ,” she chided, primly, nonetheless turning into his touch. “You need to focus on technique. Show her how to make it look good. The point is to please our Keeper.” Her lips curved as she caught his eye. “You can be _thorough_ next time.”

He nipped at her throat in retaliation, but then he had her pants open and his strong hands were sliding down her hips and thighs. His breath was warm against her bare calves as he slipped her pants and delicate underthings over her feet and out of the way. Then he was standing again, his fingers spreading against the skin at the small of her back as he bent her over the cool, glossy surface of the tabletop, putting her ass on clear display.

Mara wiggled a little, adjusting her position and angling her feet. In the expensive heels, she was just the right height, and tilting her hips gave her the position she wanted - inviting and alluring. Luke’s fingers trailed appreciatively down the skin he’d soon be flogging before he made himself step away.

Mara could feel Pryce’s inner turmoil intertwining with Luke’s lust in the air of the room, though the latter pulled back a little as he made himself focus on addressing Pryce.

“Come stand over here,” he instructed her. “Thrawn will probably sit there, and you want to make sure he’s got a good view of everything.”

Mara could hear the soft sound of the nerf-hide falls being shaken out as Luke checked for snarls or knots.

“Floggers aren’t about hard impact,” Luke continued, matter-of-factly. “Not like a paddle or something. It’s about the sting.”

Adjusting the press of her breasts against the tabletop, Mara snuck a glance over her shoulder.Pryce was staring raptly in what she took for guilty fascination.

“You can go fast and light or harder and slower,” Luke explained, “but you always want to control where the falls land.” He glanced in Mara’s direction and grinned when he caught her looking. “Mara marks easily, but she’s got a high tolerance, so there’s no need to be shy.”

Sticking her tongue out at him, Mara turned back around, pressing her palms into the tabletop.

“Hold it like this,” Luke instructed Pryce, “and then —.”

Mara caught her breath as the flogger snapped against the bare skin directly across the center of her left ass cheek. Her muscles instinctively clenched and she registered Pryce’s gasp, and then a matching stroke set the falls biting into her right cheek. Heat and desire flooded through her, flushing her skin pink and she curled her fingertips into the cool wood beneath her hands, trying to focus on being still, on keeping her breathing even. This was _practice._

Behind her, she heard Luke mutter “ _kriff_ ” — and then he was flogging her steadily, just hard enough to set heat building in her bones, to scramble her orderly thoughts. A small whine escaped when he suddenly stopped, and she swallowed the rest before it could become a proper moan.

“Right.” Luke sounded strained, too, and Mara tucked her head into her shoulder to muffle a breathy laugh at his distress. “You can — you can do it faster,” he said, “like this.”

The bite was back, lighter and faster, the falls windmilling against her skin in an endless prickling sting that made her squirm.

“Hold still!”

The affectionate command was punctuated with a much harder swipe of the falls against the center of her ass, and Mara did moan that time.

“Let me try.” Pryce’s voice was abrupt, her arousal an eager tang in the Force.

Mara tweaked her position, tilting her hips back up a little higher and steadying herself. The first stroke was weak and sloppy. Mara listened to Luke correct Pryce’s grip on the handle, then offer instruction on the proper snap of the wrist.

The second try was better, hitting off-center on her right ass cheek, but showing more control. By the tenth strike, Pryce had clearly gotten the hang of it. Her conflicting emotions were a muddled wave, washing against the heat of Mara’s pleasure. She could identify enough arousal and curiosity, however, that Mara counted herself as successful — this was going to work.

Pryce stopped as quickly as she’d started. “I understand.”

“You did well,” Luke praised.

Mara worked to control her breathing before pushing herself upright. She made it halfway before one of Luke’s strong hands splayed on her back, pressing her back down. Mara swallowed a laugh. “We have to talk scheduling,” she protested. Still, she willingly spread her legs for him as he worked the fastener of his jumpsuit and shoved the whole thing down to his knees.

“So talk,” he teased, his fingers dipping into her slick folds and making her clench with need. His mind touched hers gently and Mara moaned, sweet fire acing through her and making every nerve sing. Luke hummed as he pushed two fingers inside her, pleased by the way her body contracted around them. 

Pryce stared at them aghast, and Mara gripped the edge of the table, trying desperately to think past the drenching need that consumed her. “I’ll… get us onto Thrawn’s calendar,” she managed. 

Luke pulled his fingers away, the blunt tip of his swollen cock replacing them.

“You have — _ahhh_ ,” she cut off with a cry when he shoved inside her, his thick length filling her, driving breath and thought straight out of her head. Luke grunted his satisfaction, his hands sliding to her ass and gripping her burning cheeks.

Mara closed her eyes, shivering as Luke squeezed the tender flesh and sent fresh sparks of need fanning out under her skin. She could feel Pryce’s eyes through the pleasure and scraped together a few precarious threads of concentration. “You —,” she gasped, trying again. “— have something to wear?”

Pryce’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then she stammered, “I… what?”

“Mmmm… clothes,” Mara managed, gasping as Luke thrust into her again, his steady pace driving her straight up the peak of pleasure.

“Oh.” Pryce blinked, then recovered slightly. “I — yes. Ex-excuse me.”

“You don’t have to go.” Luke squeezed Mara’s abused rear again, making her head spin and her eyelids flutter. He slowed his pace tormentingly, and she bit her lip to keep from begging.

“Stay,” Luke coaxed Pryce, sliding one palm up Mara’s spine to keep her from squirming as he stroked languidly in and out of her. “Let me get you off.”

Mara watched through slitted eyes as longing flitted across Pryce’s face before reluctance took over and she shook her head.

“Not without express permission,” she said, her voice firming as she got the words out. “I’ll just… wait until the ceremony. Excuse me.” Without waiting for another word, she fled.

“You did this for him.” Luke leaned over Mara, planting his hands on the table on either side of her. “Because he wants her, too.”

“We live to serve.” The words came out strained and Mara pressed her forehead against the tabletop, cold anxiety curling through the heat of pleasure.

“Mara.” Luke’s hands covered hers, and he nuzzled at the nape of her neck. “You’re so good, Sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

“It isn’t your opinion that matters,” Mara deflected, her fear refusing to let herself indulge in his praise. She’d been working on instinct alone in this — if she’d misjudged…

“‘Course not.” Luke laughed, not believing her words for a second. The warmth of his approval washed through her again; this time the push was intentional and it drove the cold and anxiety out of her.

Mara closed her eyes and let his happiness and desire soak through her.

Luke pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then pushed back upright, moving his hands to frame her hips. “I can’t wait to watch Thrawn flog you.” His voice was as rough as his thrusts as he picked back up to his previous unrelenting pace.

Mara couldn’t think. Nothing existed beyond Luke’s touch, the dig of his fingers into her sides, the press of his mind against hers. It was so bright — everything was bright and hot and she was _so close_.

Luke grunted, his body tightening as he approached his own climax. “I want my cock in your mouth,” he gasped. His mental image spilled over — Mara on her hands and knees, her mouth wrapped around Luke’s heavy cock, his hand buried in her hair, pushing himself deeper down her throat while Thrawn cracked the flogger’s falls wickedly against her flame-red ass and thighs.

It was so vivid Mara could almost feel the sharp bite of the falls and taste Luke’s pleasure on her tongue. Luke thrust again, and then she was keening, her body shuddering violently as he pushed her over the edge in glittering release.

He was right there with her, his pleasure colliding with hers as he emptied himself inside her in hot pulsing spurts. They stayed that way for a few long moments, after, Luke trailing kisses across Mara’s shoulders while his cock softened inside her.

She whimpered when he pulled out, and Luke chuckled as he scooped her up and carried her to his bed. He peeled her out of her top and shed his own clothes before sprawling her on her stomach on the soft sheets. Mara drifted as Luke rubbed cool bacta salve into her skin, ensuring it would be a perfectly clean slate for the ceremony. When he was done, he crawled into the bed and cuddled her to his chest.

His warm pride soothed Mara’s worries and she let herself doze, his steady heartbeat pulsing beneath her ear in a promise that all would be well.


	4. Arihnda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consummation

The appointment showed up simultaneously in her calendar and the Grand Admiral’s. The source tags showed it was added by Thrawn himself. It was euphemistically titled “strategy briefing” but the private notes section — which only she and Thrawn had access to — stated that it would take place in Skywalker's quarters. She couldn’t be entirely sure what Jade had said, but Thrawn had wasted no time in making room for the appointment — it was set for tomorrow.

Arihnda was glad she wouldn’t have to wait. Both because she was nervous about the whole thing, and because the sooner they got this resolved the sooner she was likely to be regularly welcome in Thrawn’s bed.

The fact that she was also embarrassingly eager to flog Jade _definitely_ had nothing to do with it.

 _It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,_ she told herself, sternly. The Companion had needed discipline since the minute she stepped aboard the _Chimaera._ It was entirely reasonable to have a sense of anticipation about seeing her get what she deserved. And they’d be pleasing the Grand Admiral, and there was nothing but pride to be felt about _that_.

So what if her cheeks flushed and her thighs clenched every time she thought of the impromptu ‘lesson’? Of the way Jade’s skin streaked with color, or how beautifully she folded under Skywalker’s strong hand?

And, yes, _fine_ , so she’d given herself more than one white-out orgasm since,her fingers working frantically between her thighs as she imagined herself in Jade’s place, Skywalker’s talented hands on her skin, his thick cock stretching her. Or in Skywalker’s place, _her_ hands splayed over Jade’s skin, _her_ touch making the Companion mewl and squirm. She just wanted the respect due her, the recompense for all the slights she’d endured.

She absolutely was _not_ lusting like Gammorean in heat over the Grand Admiral’s kriff toys.

Grumbling under her breath, Arihnda stabbed the datapad, switching off the scheduling program. The next day cycle was going to take _forever_.

* * *

Arihnda eyed herself critically in the mirror of her private ‘fresher. She was wearing her newest standard duty uniform, and she’d ordered the laundry droids to give it an extra sharp pressing. It felt… different, over her only ‘nice’ set of lingerie — a lacy, pristinely white demi-cup brassiere and wispy, barely-there basics. The flimsiness of her underthings made her starkly more aware of the coarseness of the fabric against her skin.

It was not unlike the feel of Thrawn’s naturally rougher skin on the most delicate parts of hers. That thought threatened to make her soak through her underthings before she’d so much as arrived at the Grand Admiral’s door and she pushed it away irritably.

She ran a hand over her hair, which she’d pulled into a sleek, tight knot at the nape of her neck,then snatched her lip tint from the counter. It was a stark crimson, a shade she’d bought on a whim and never worn, and she felt bold and daring applying it now. It emphasized the darkness of her hair and the severity of her cheekbones, she thought, unexpectedly pleased. Striding out of the ‘fresher, she sat down on the end of her bed to pull on her freshly polished boots.

It had occurred to her only this morning that it wouldn’t do to wear her best dress uniform, despite the magnitude and solemnity of the event. There was no way to move from her quarters to Skywalker’s without being seen and recorded and security holo-cams. Her dress uniform would draw attention, and the Grand Admiral would surely find her lack of discretion displeasing.

Her standard uniform would have to do. She’d taken pains with it, though, playing up the sharpness and strictness of it.There was something deeply appealing about imagining how severe she would look beside Jade’s yielding form. Despite Thrawn’s implication otherwise, she knew she would never rival Jade for sheer beauty. But Thrawn had a keen appreciation for art. She imagined that by highlighting the contrasts between them — the balance they created side-by-side — she could use Jade to enhance her own appeal and increase Thrawn’s aesthetic pleasure at the whole affair.

* * *

  
Arriving a few minutes early, Arihnda pressed the annunciator at Skywalker’s door intentionally, this time. The door slid open at once, revealing Skywalker himself. Arihnda couldn’t help running an approving eye over his lean form. His navy tunic had tiny silver embroidery along all the edges and its cut showed off the trim muscle beneath. He wore matching pants, almost as sharply pressed as her own, but where she’d expect to see tall, polished boots, he was barefoot.

“Attachée Pryce,” he greeted jovially, his eyes already bright with boyish excitement. “You can leave your boots here, if you don’t mind.”

“Titles are unnecessary, here.” Thrawn’s voice was smooth but decisive.

Arihnda covertly glanced past Skywalker — Luke — as she took her boots off and set them neatly inside the door. The Grand Admiral still wore his uniform from earlier,though he, too, had discarded his boots somewhere. His white jacket was casually unbuttoned and he was just accepting a crystal goblet of deep purple wine from Jade as Arihnda straightened and stepped further into the room.

Jade — _Mara_ , though that mental adjustment was more difficult to make than _Luke_ — wore a cream-colored gown that wrapped snugly around her breasts and then fell loosely to her ankles. She’d styled her hair so it hung in soft curls, but otherwise left it loose. She’d artfully enhanced her features with the kind of cosmetic treatment that had always eluded Arihnda — every tint and touch so subtle she looked both too flawless to be real and as though she were wearing no cosmetics at all. Everything about her spoke of yielding submission, and Arihnda felt a spike a satisfaction. The current of anticipation running under her skin doubled. What a lovely holo they would make for Thrawn tonight.

“Arihnda,” Thawn inclined his head, his eyes sliding down her body with a possessive intention that sent electricity crackling through her.

“Thrawn.” She stepped toward him, noticing as she did that the furniture had been moved around. The table had been placed front and center, and a comfortable chair was positioned where it would have the most advantageous view.

“Now that everyone’s here,” Luke stepped smoothly into her path, redirecting her. “We can get started. Arihnda, If you would?” He swept his hand to the side and she let herself be pointed toward the table. “And you, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Luke turned and ushered Thrawn to the waiting chair.

A fond, amused expression crossed the Grand Admiral’s features, but he took the seat, settling into it with lithe ease.

Luke stepped off to the side while Mara procured a decorative tray. She carried it to where Thrawn sat and slid fluidly to her knees. Arihnda couldn’t imagine acquiring that kind of grace in a dozen lifetimes. Where there might have been jealousy before, however, there was only a quickening of interest now, watching Mara hold up the tray like an offering.

It held only two items. A datapad and the flogger.

Thrawn raised a single eyebrow and lifted the datapad from the tray. Arihnda fought the urge to shift restlessly as he sipped his wine and perused the document. Neither Luke nor Mara moved, both seemingly content to wait on his pleasure. Idly, Arihnda wondered again about their bedroom interactions with Thrawn and their lives as functional slaves. Was waiting like this a normal part of their days?

Eventually, Thrawn set the datapad back on the tray, which Mara still held on display, level with his knees. Placing his goblet on the ground beside his chair, Thrawn lifted the flogger. He ran his long, elegant fingers through the falls, and ordered, “Put the tray down.”

Mara complied without moving from where she knelt, her empty hands folding in her lap.

“You initiated this, _ch’eo bat bun’is_?”

Arihnda did feel a small spike of envy this time at the open affection and pleasure in Thrawn’s expression as he regarded his Companion.

“Yes, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. I want to please you.”

Thrawn leaned forward and caught Mara’s chin in one hand, tipping it up. He seemed to search her eyes for a long moment, and Arihnda was surprised to recognize consideration in his gaze — as if he were checking for a flaw or a warning sign of some kind. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him and he stroked his thumb along her cheekbone tenderly.

Then he turned his gaze to Arihnda. She instinctively straightened a little more stiffly and raised her chin.

“You agree to these terms?”

“I do, Grand Admiral,” she answered, decisively. Then, echoing Mara’s cue in her own way, she asserted, “I wish to bring about the balance you desire.”

Thrawn’s smile was for her this time, and it sent a giddy rush of happiness cascading through her. It was a heady feeling to know she pleased him just as his kriff toys did.The confidence in that realization made something shift inside her. For the first time, she conceptualized the dynamic between herself and the Admiral’s companions as something other than a rivalry.

 _Serve with the same loyalty you always have, Arihnda._ His words from their first time together came back to her. _I ask no more. Luke and Mara also serve._

They also served. Beside her beneath him. Not against her. _Balance._

“Very good.” Thrawn’s tone turned arch as his gaze shifted to Luke. “What is your role in this, Luke?”

“Facilitation, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Luke said, cheerfully, bouncing a little on the balls of his bare feet. He gave a precise half-bow, his lips quirking. “If you approve.”

“I do.” Thrawn stroked Mara’s jaw with his thumb, then leaned back, motioning grandly. “Begin.”

Luke stepped forward and offered a hand to Mara, palm up. Mara placed hers in it and rose smoothly to her feet. Still holding her hand a Courtly sort of hold, Luke led Mara toward the table. When they reached Arihnda, Luke held out his other hand in a mirroring gesture. The show had clearly begun, and Arihnda would not be outdone. Following Luke’s lead, Arihnda accepted the proffered hand with as much stern haughtiness as she could muster.

Escorting them both the few remaining steps, Luke regally released Arihnda at the left edge of the table. That placed Mara directly at its center when she dropped his hand at the same time.

Arihnda snuck a glance at Thrawn. He had reclaimed his wine and held it loosely in his left hand as his right worked the buckle of his belt loose. Heat and pleasure poured through her veins at the idea that they were arousing him already.

Darting her gaze back, she found that Mara had turned to face the table. She pressed her palms against it and adjusted her feet, again in those improbably high heels.

Luke had edged just to Mara’s other side, giving Thrawn a clear view of all three of them. Evidently, the Companions’ time in Court had gifted them with a keen sense of presentation. That… might actually come in handy in professional settings, Arihnda thought, making a mental note.

Although Arihnda didn’t see the cue that connected them, Luke and Mara moved in tandem. Mara slid her palms forward as Luke’s hand touched the small of her back. He folded her over, her hips hinging perfectly over the table’s edge, her breasts pressing flat into the smooth, hard surface.

Just watching Luke’s hand stroke provocatively up Mara’s back sent shivers of desire down Arihnda’s spine. She remembered vividly what those hands felt like. The heat and controlled pressure of his very intentional touch.

Keeping his body just to the side so as not to impede either her view or Thrawn’s, he gathered the fine fabric of Mara’s dress one handful at a time, slowly exposing the long lines of her legs. Luke eased the bunched fabric over Mara’s rear, revealing a scrap of emerald lace beneath. He draped the skirt around Mara’s waist, artistically framing her beautiful ass, and tucked the edges under her to keep it in place. Then he hooked his fingers in the thin bands across her hips that held the lace in place and crouched, his fingertips trailing along the outsides of Mara’s legs as he slid the garment down. He tapped one ankle at a time, and Mara obediently lifted her feet so he could pull the fabric away, then readjusted her stance, returning her hips to the perfect tilt.

Arihnda watched Luke carry the bit of lace to Thrawn, who held one hand out for it proprietarily.The Grand Admiral’s belt was tossed aside, now, and his jacket hung open, the muscled planes of his chest evident through his thin black under-tunic. Lace surrendered, Luke collected the flogger from the tray.

Walking back to the table,Luke made a show of presenting the flogger to Arihnda with both hands, as one might a ceremonial sword, or a stylus to used in signing a treaty of galactic importance. She accepted it with what she hoped was equally regal bearing.

On the table, Mara turned her head toward them, watching, wisps of hair obscuring Arihnda’s view of her face and eyes. Luke rounded the table, positioning himself directly in front of Mara. Arihnda could see his erection already straining against his pants as he gently gathered Mara’s hair and pulled it to one side, away from her face, leaving her expression openly on display.

“Wrists,” he commanded.

Mara slid her hands up the table until her palms and elbows were flat on its surface, her hands level with her head but far enough away that she would be unable to hide anything about her response to what was coming.

Luke’s strong hands closed over’s Mara’s wrists and he leaned forward a little, giving the impression of weight as he pinned them to the table. Both Companions were flushed, their arousal as visceral as it was visible. Arihnda swore she could feel and taste it in the air, pressing into her skin like the gravity regulator had gone faulty. It collided with her own lust, bubbling up in a steady stream now, and made her breath come fast and shallow.

The moment felt electric, and she immersed herself in it, every shred of self-consciousness evaporating.

“Are you ready, Mara?” She demanded, purposely using the severe tone she’d employ to dress down a new recruit who’d committed an unconscionable infraction.

“Yes, Arihnda,” Mara replied, demurely.

It was the only reply she could give, but the _way_ she said it sent a rush of wet heat straight to Arihnda’s core. Her voice was breathy and submissive. Playacting as it no doubt was, it appealed deeply. Arihnda stole a glance at Thrawn. The wine glass was still between his fingers, but largely forgotten. His eyes had darkened with desire and attention. Though he lounged in his chair, it was a studied posture she recognized, meant to bely the intensity of his interest.

Her uniform was too hot by an order of magnitude, but she couldn’t strip it off yet. Instead, she shook out the flogger’s falls as Luke had shown her, making a show of running her fingers through their fawn-colored lengths to look for snarls or tangles.

“Very well,” she said crisply. “You know why you’re being disciplined. Let’s not waste the Admiral’s time.” Curling her fingers around the ivory-wood handle, she pulled it back and swung, snapping her wrist just as she’d been taught.

There was a gratifying _slap_ as the falls impacted. Red blossomed in streaks across Mara’s fair skin.

Belatedly, it occurred to Arihnda that it might have been better to start with the lighter, faster strokes Luke had modeled. To build color slowly, from alabaster to pink to rose to scarlet. But this event was not only for show. It was an airing of old grievances that needed outing if they were to truly move forward. So she didn’t waste time regretting her choice, instead pulling the handle back again and cracking the falls against Mara’s ass with undisguised prejudice, reveling in the intoxicating way the Companion jerked under the blows, her muscles clenching and her wrists jerking under Skywalker’s unrelenting grip with each strike.

Arihnda systematically worked across Mara’s ass, purposely overlapping blows until the Companion’s rear was an angry red. She could hear her own breathing getting harder, could feel her body flushed from head to toe. The flogging must have hurt, badly, but Mara never cried out, even when Arihnda plied the falls to the tender crease where her ass and thighs met.

At some point Arihnda realized Mara had begun releasing soft, whining whimpers, her fingers clenching open and shut against the wood beneath them. Her eyes were slitted half-shut, her entire body pink and glistening.

 _She’s aroused._ Arihnda was simultaneously fascinated and appalled. Her gaze darted between the Companion’s legs, suddenly shockingly hungry to touch her. She slapped the falls against Mara’s skin once more, then very slowly set it on the table. Licking her lips, she turned to Thrawn.

Both his wine and his uniform jacket were discarded, the vivid purple flush painting his skin undisguised. One elegant hand cupped his erection through his pants and his eyes had gone carmine with approval and lust. Arihnda felt a surge of satisfaction. She had done that to him. Pleased him enough to inspire such loss of restraint. It was heady to see him so unreserved, and whatever inhibitions she had left eroded.

“May I touch your companion, Grand Admiral?” She asked, boldly.

“Mar.” His voice was rough, the Cheunh gravelly in a way that made the wet heat between Arihnda’s legs throb. “Yes.”

Arihnda turned back to Mara. For just a second, she felt a frisson of discomfort looking down at the Companion’s pliant form. For all that Mara’s beauty, bedroom skills, and obeisance served her well now that she was in Thrawn’s keeping, she’d almost certainly had no say in when or how she had acquired them. Arihnda had pitied Luke before for the terms of his indenture; in the face of Mara’s arrogance, it had not occurred to her before now to extend her the same courtesy.

She pushed the thought away. Whatever had brought her to this place, Mara’s devotion to pleasing Thrawn through this consummation was total. She would not begrudge Arihnda whatever she took.

Still, she was thoughtful when she reached out and dragged the tips of her fingers up the back of the Companion’s thigh. Mara’s skin was smooth and soft, and she made a small sound at Arihnda’s touch, pressing her forehead into her pinned arm, the well-defined muscles in her back and shoulders straining with the effort to keep still.

Arihnda felt sharp satisfaction when her fingers reached the crimson skin at the crease of Mara’s thigh and the Companion’s sound turned to a whimper. She traced the crease back and forth once, then let her fingers slide down the inside of Mara’s thigh and skated them along her slit. Butterflies danced in her stomach as her fingers dipped into Mara’s slick folds. It had been a long, _long_ time since she’d touched another woman, and she hadn’t had enough practice to be good at it then, but she hadn’t forgotten the headiness of it. 

Suddenly, Thrawn’s solid presence was at her back. The heat of him soaked through her uniform; his hardness was unmistakable against her ass. Arihnda’s entire body pulsed with the need to be kriffed. _Not yet,_ she admonished herself. _Soon._ Thrawn’s left arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her snug against him and she felt her knees go weak.

“Let me show you what she likes,” he purred, his hand settling on her shoulder.

Arihnda bit back a moan as Thrawn slid his hand slowly down her arm. His hand cupped around hers and she splayed her fingers so he could twine their fingers together. At her waist, his left hand tugged at her belt buckle, unfastening it with rough urgency as his right moved languidly to rub their joined fingers against Mara’s slit.

The Companion made a broken noise as Thrawn guided Arihnda’s fingers in a feather-light circle around her clit before thrusting them inside. Arihnda’s own body clenched in need when Mara’s inner muscles clamped down on their fingers as they lazily pumped in and out of her. Every thrust felt wanton and prurient, a sense of possessiveness and domination Arihnda hadn’t thought herself capable of lodging in her chest as they finger-kriffed Mara until her entire body started to tremble.

Luke had dropped his head toward Mara’s and he was murmuring to her, lust-drenched words Arihnda’s fevered brain couldn’t make out. Thrawn’s left hand hadn’t been idle, either. He’d undone the fasteners on Arihnda’s jacket and rucked up her under-tunic, stroking proprietarily along her midriff, his fingertips teasing the underside of her breast through her thin bra.

Arihnda dropped her head back against his shoulder, shivering at the onslaught of sensation. Thrawn’s hand dipped down, wrenching her pants open and she arched into his touch. She moaned as he circled her clit with the rough pad of a single fingertip at the same time their entwined fingers stroked Mara’s. Arihnda could feel herself panting for breath, two different needs competing inside her. She wanted to finish claiming her dominance over Mara by making her come all over her fingers. She wanted Thrawn to shove her in Mara’s place and kriff her until she didn’t know her own name. Hell, she might even want him to flog her first, scandalous as the idea felt. Her pulse pounded in her ears so hard she couldn’t gather her wits enough to ask for any of it.

On the table, Mara gasped, her hips bucking desperately.“Please,” she gasped, lifting her head. “Please, Thrawn.”

 _Her eyes,_ Arihnda thought, forcing herself to focus on the Companion’s face as she pushed her fingers a little deeper on the next thrust and twisted them, stroking her inner walls.Her pupils were huge and she never closed her eyes, never took them off Thrawn.

“Hmmm,” Thrawn sounded amused and yanked a sharp gasp from Arihnda by stroking his finger with delicious pressure just along the underside of her clit. “What you do think, Arihnda?” He asked in her ear, the words low and sensual. “Would you like to make her come?”

 _“Yes.”_ She sucked in a breath, shuddering. “Yes, please, Grand Admiral.”

He gave a low rumble of approval that she felt against her back and in her bones. Then he changed the angle of their hands, guiding their fingers to a point that made Mara shriek, her entire body going taut.

Thrawn’s arm unwrapped from around her and Arihnda felt dangerously unbalanced. Everything felt vividly sharp and jumbled at once. Her body wailed at the loss of Thrawn’s touch even as her attention splintered, equally riveted by the obscene picture of her glistening fingers pumping mercilessly in and out of Mara and by Thrawn’s other hand, which moved to cup Mara’s cheek. His thumb pressed into her mouth and the companion’s eyes slid half shut, never quite leaving his as she sucked eagerly. There was something primal about her devotion, and it gripped Arihnda’s chest, making it hard to breathe.

Luke’s grip on Mara’s wrists was white-knuckled and fierce, his own arousal starkly visible on his flushed face, in the glint of his eyes as he hissed hot, undoubtedly filthy things in Mara’s ear. Arihnda felt Thrawn crook their joined fingers and press hard on their next thrust. Mara convulsed, wailing around Thrawn’s thumb.

Arihnda’s head spun with the high of sensory overload as her fingers slipped from Mara’s body.“Thrawn.” His name came out thin and desperate. “Please.” She _needed_ him to touch her.

Across the table, Luke’s head came up and he grinned wickedly. “Thrawn,” he said, his voice as cheerful as it had been at the beginning of the evening, but decidedly mischievous, now, too. “I believe Arihnda would like you to flog her before you fuck her.”

Thrawn’s arm snaked back around her, the muscle hard against her ribs, and his other hand skimmed her skin again, dipping down her pants to finger her. She moaned, her knees buckling.

“Would you like that, Arihnda?” Thrawn purred, mouthing at her throat. “It would bring _balance_ to the evening, I think.”

“Yes.” She didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice, couldn’t _believe_ that this was actually happening. That she wanted — and he was _willing_ …

“Luke,” Thrawn said.

Arihnda tried to watch Luke round the table, but Thrawn’s hands were everywhere, stripping off her jacket and tossing it aside, shoving her pants down and kicking them away, too. He didn’t try to lift her under-tunic over her head, just grasped it at the neckline and ripped it off of her.

In front of them, Luke had bent over Mara’s limp form. He scooped her up as if she were weightless and stepped back. Then Arihnda couldn’t pay attention anymore because Thrawn’s fingers were playing over the lace cupping her breasts.

“Do you like it?” She asked, breathlessly, hating herself for the need in her tone, even as the feel of his calloused fingertips over her delicate skin made her whole body tighten with excruciating desire. 

“Very much.”

The world spun as Thrawn grabbed her hip and swiveled her around. Arihnda’s palms slapped flat on the table as she lost her balance, too caught up in the feel of Thrawn’s hands closing around the thin strand that held the scrap of lace up at her hips and snapped it. She didn’t see what he did with them but was distantly and deliciously aware that he’d taken the garment - claimed it as he had Mara’s. The thought was scorching and she felt her own fluids dripping down her inner thigh, her arousal too prolonged and consuming to be hidden any longer. Then Thrawn’s spread fingers were sliding up her spine, pushing her down over the table and she folded with a long, deep groan.

_“Please. Please.”_

Unhurried, Thrawn stroked his palm down her back again, this time trailing it over her ass and then dipping his fingers between her legs. Arihnda thought her body would melt whole and pour out over his fingertips.

When he drew his hand away, she glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip against the urge to plead again. Thrawn was stripping off the remains of his clothing with military efficiency. Behind him, she could see the Companions. Luke had claimed Thrawn’s chair and had Mara in his lap. Her skirt was hiked up to her hips, the top of her dress dragged down to her waist. Luke palmed a breast with one hand; the other was between her legs. His clothes were discarded on the floor and it was clear even at a glimpse he was kriffing her. Mara’s head was tossed back, her body rocking in time with his touch.

Thrawn moved back into her line of sight, and everything but him ceased to exist. He was naked now, all lean muscle, purple-blue skin, and jutting cock. Gods, he was beautiful. She watched, unable to look away, as his hand closed around the flogger handle. As she had done, he ran his fingers through the falls, testing them.

“Discipline should always be warranted,” he said, his voice low, for her ears alone.

“Yes, Thrawn,” she gasped, squirming to hitch her hips higher, put herself properly on display as Mara had done.

He nodded, his expression pleased, his eyes gleaming. “Consider this recompense for using my Companion without permission, rather than coming to me with your concerns as you should have.”

“Yes,” she managed again, unable to say anything more. A different kind of warmth spread through her beneath the burning lust. Something… peaceful. She’d felt badly about using Luke, about forcing Thrawn’s hand in admitting he cared about her. About having been a source of disruption in his balanced world. This would make it right. He would take her recompense, and she’d be free of it.

The first _crack_ of the falls against her ass shattered her thoughts. Heat bloomed across her skin and her brain short-circuited. _Crack._ The flogger landed again and she yelped this time, then felt her already flushed body turn an even darker shade of red at her outburst. The hits came faster, then — Thrawn clearly knew exactly what he was doing, every hit landing with a sharp, even bite that made her writhe. It _hurt_ but as the pain spread so did pleasure, a deep, soaking pleasure she’d never known, so much that it threatened to drown her.

Everything intensified. The cool, smooth wood beneath her cheek. The recirculating air against her skin. The slick arousal shamelessly dripping down her thighs. There were sounds coming out of her mouth, but they were distant, surreal. There was only Thrawn’s hand on her back when he grew dissatisfied with her squirming and pinned her in place, the song of the leather falls as they whipped through the air, the bite and heat against her skin when they struck.

She felt _beautiful_. 

She startled when the flogger clattered onto the table beside her. “Look at me, Arihnda,” Thrawn commanded, stepping behind her and closing his hands over her hips.

Arihnda twisted her head around, gulping for air as Thrawn positioned himself at her entrance. “Yes,” she babbled. “Oh yes, _please — aahh!_ ”

He pushed inside her in a single ruthless stroke, stretching and filling her. Arihnda saw stars, her greedy body clamping down on him even as he pulled out, only to repeat the move, again sheathing himself inside her completely.Only his grip kept her hips from slamming into the edge of the table as he kriffed her with deep, pummeling thrusts. It was a visceral form of possession and Arihnda reveled in it — in the heat and want and sheer unbelievable scandalousness of it all. Then he tugged, changing the angle at which he held her. The next thrust hit just the right spot. Climax hit like being flung off a cliff, everything suddenly weightless and bright. She keened, dimly aware of Thrawn rutting into her another moment before reaching his own pleasure and emptying himself inside her with a bitten-off Cheunh curse.

Vaguely, she registered him folding over her, his chest to her back, and his breath warm on her neck. She drifted, sublimely content. She grumbled slightly when he pulled away, the loss leaving her feeling clammy and lost. She should get up, she thought. Her limbs clearly had other ideas, however, refusing to comply.

Then Thrawn was back, strong arms lifting her. She blinked groggily when he cradled her against his chest, then leaned into the hold, immensely pleased. After a moment, she was moving again — there was something soft under her, and she cracked bleary eyes open. She was in a bed beside Luke, his nude body dappled with starlight. Mara was draped over him, eyes closed, her head resting on his chest. One of his hands fisted in her tousled fire-and-gold hair.

Luke opened one eye and then looped his free arm around Arihnda, scooping her closer to his side. She was startled, but he was an absolute furnace of heat and she snuggled shamelessly into the warmth. Delight slid through her when Thrawn stretched out along her back, encasing her in comfort. One of his arms reached over her, and she watched lazily as Luke gave a sleepy smile and kissed Thrawn’s fingers when they grazed his jaw. Thrawn skimmed Mara’s cheek, next, drawing the sort of soft, pleased sound Arihnda would have expected from a pitten.

Then the hand slid to her, resting on her side as she began to doze off.

If this was what balance felt like, she decided sleepily, then she was just as fierce a proponent of it as her Grand Admiral.


End file.
